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"I just don't see why I have to host all these events. First there was the Christmas Ball, and don't even get me started on the Halloween party they had me do—"
"You know why, Hermione," Harry said quietly. "You're the best of the best. You're a fantastic organiser. You get things done."
"Yes, and things have been exceptionally slow around here lately," Hermione said bitterly. "Perhaps it's their way of telling me they're going to merge the department with another, or, God forbid, close it down altogether." She played with the bracelet on her wrist anxiously; she'd been worried about this for months. The Ministry of Magic Public Information Services was all well and good when things weren't going too well in the Wizarding world, but when everything was hunky dory, as it seemed to be, there was very little for them to do. They'd already lost six members of staff in the last three months; there was only her and her assistant, Hannah Abbott, left.
"I'm sure it won't come to that." Harry placed a hand on her wrist, in what she assumed was supposed to be a comforting gesture. "Anyway, you won't be alone. I'll send along someone in my department to help you."
"I don't need help," Hermione snapped, though she knew deep down that she did. She just didn't like to admit it. "I think I'm going to go. I want to get an early night so I can spend the weekend drafting plans for the ball."
"You're always working, Hermione! You need to rest—"
"Bye, Harry," she said, patting him on the shoulder affectionately as she got up to leave. He was her best friend, but he just didn't understand how important her work was to her. Besides, she needed to get her ideas down on parchment so that when the help came on Monday, they would know exactly what she wanted them to do.
*
"Good morning," Hermione replied, walking swiftly past Hannah and into her office. There was a note on her desk from Harry, saying her help should be along soon. Truth be told, she was a little miffed that they weren't here already. She wanted to get on with things; they only had two weeks to organise the ball and had to get a move on.
"Hermione!" Hannah called as Hermione was taking off her coat and getting all the Valentine's information ready. "There's someone here for you."
A little hot and bothered, Hermione exited her office and came face to face with Draco Malfoy. Her blood ran cold and she began unconsciously fiddling with her bracelet. He was completely avoiding eye contact, staring at the floor with his hands in his robes. He looked as if he really didn't want to be there. She was speechless, herself. She didn't know what to do or say. She hadn't seen him since the war, since she'd been his captive all those years ago. "M-Malfoy," she managed after several moments of awkward silence. "How can I help you?"
"Harry sent me."
"You're the help?" Malfoy nodded, and Hermione swallowed hard. She'd have to work with Malfoy? Granted, nobody except the two of them and any Death Eaters still about knew what had happened between them, but still... The thought was making her sick. She turned immediately on her heel and went back into her office, slamming the door behind her. She knew it was rude and in any other circumstances she wouldn't have done it, but she needed a few moments to herself.
"Hermione?" The voice was Hannah's; she was knocking lightly on the door. "Are you okay?"
"Fine," Hermione called out, though her voice was a little choked. "Can you get me some teabags from the corner shop, Hannah? I appear to have run out of them."
"Um, okay." Hannah didn't appear at all satisfied by Hermione's request and was probably still wondering what was going on, but she left all the same. As soon as her footprints could no longer be heard, Hermione took a deep breath, opened her office door and invited Malfoy inside.
"Can—" She played nervously with her bracelet as Malfoy came in and attempted to close the door. "Can you leave it open?"
Malfoy nodded and opened the door completely, staying as near to it as possible. He knew why she didn't want to be in a closed room alone with him, but if Hermione wasn't mistaken, a layer of hurt flashed across his eyes when she asked.
"Sorry about that, I—"
"Don't." Malfoy held up a hand to silence her, and Hermione immediately obeyed. She was well accustomed to that action. "Shit, sorry. I didn't think," he said hurriedly, placing his arms awkwardly by his side. "Look, I practically begged Harry not to send me, but he insisted. Said I was the only one available and that you were desperate."
"I'm not desperate!" Hermione snapped. "And it's fine. I'm sure... I'm sure we can do this. Just no closed doors, all right?"
"Yeah, course." Malfoy visibly relaxed a little; perhaps he'd thought she would have a go at him. "You should know that I hate Valentine's Day."
"Me too," Hermione said with a small smile. "Don't you have anyone to spend it with?"
He shook his head. "No, but that's not why. You?"
"No, Ron and I broke up after—"
"I'm sorry," Malfoy blurted out suddenly. It seemed he'd been unable to hold it in. "About everything. I shouldn't have done what I did. I've wanted to apologise since then, but I didn't think you'd want to see me. Thought it best to stay away."
"You were right," Hermione said quietly, sitting down in the char behind her desk. "I'm struggling seeing you now. I don't think I could have handled seeing you before."
"Why didn't you ever tell anyone? At my trial, you never mentioned it. I was certain you would, certain I'd be in Azkaban for life."
Hermione shrugged and looked awkwardly around; she didn't really feel like answering.
"They only had PG Tips, is that all right?" Hannah came bursting into her office, completely out of breath. She must've run there or back or at the very least through the Ministry. "The Tetley delivery was late, apparently."
"That's fine." Hermione cleared her throat. "Do you want a cup of tea, Malfoy?"
"Er, yeah." Malfoy seemed a little on edge at the sudden change in conversation. "Thanks."
"Two teas please, Hannah. Right, let's get on with the ball." Hermione took the parchments in front of her and organised them for Malfoy, making sure they were all in order. She'd spent all weekend going over everything, from the guest list to the food to the music.
"You've done everything already..." Malfoy said matter-of-factly.
Hermione shrugged. "I didn't know who Harry would send. Their ideas could have been completely off the wall. I had to come fully prepared."
Malfoy allowed a smirk to grace his features, though only briefly."So, you want me to, what?"
"First things first, sort the guest list out. Organise the invites—I've drawn a little picture as to what I want them to look like—and then send them out. That has to be done today."
Malfoy took the guest list off her desk and stared at it in shock. "There are over three hundred people on this list, Granger! It's going to take more than a day."
"Not if you work hard and fast, and don't stop for lunch."
"You won't let me have lunch?" Malfoy asked with raised brows.
The thought that she'd hardly ever been allowed to eat when in his custody crossed her mind, but she didn't mention it. "If you must eat, you'll be working late." Hermione might not have said what she was thinking, but it appeared that Malfoy had shared her thought. He looked away awkwardly. Her eyes fell to the floor and her voice softened considerably when she next spoke. "I'll be sorting out the music today. Like the guest list, it's likely to take all day. Even Wizarding bands can be rather demanding..."
Malfoy nodded and stood, leaving without saying a word or even looking at her. She felt rather guilty about the open insinuation; it had been many years since she'd been his captive and she didn't blame him, but she could never forget her experience and it clouded her very being and judgement, right to this day.
She buried herself in work and subsequently missed lunch herself, being far too busy to even attempt something as trivial as eating. Hannah brought her a sandwich, but she didn't eat it.
"You invited my parents."
Hermione looked up to see Malfoy in her doorway, and then glanced at the clock on her desk. It was gone six already. "And you."
"Why?"
"They're slowly climbing the social ladder again. They have connections."
"And me?"
"You're their son."
Hermione looked down at the work left to do; it was so late already, she knew she had to clear up pretty fast, else the cleaners would be on at her again. They didn't like her to stay late, so more often than not, she took her work home with her. The Valentine's Ball was no exception. She finished writing one last paragraph and tidied up her papers. She was surprised to see Malfoy waiting outside her office. Unable to help herself, she grabbed at her bracelet and looked quickly around for someone else, but they were the only two in sight. She felt a little panicked by this, and it must've been obvious by Malfoy's next choice of words.
"Sorry, I was just going to ask if you wanted me to take anything home to work on."
Hermione relaxed slightly and shook her head. "No, but thanks."
"Right." They both stood there awkwardly in silence, looking anywhere but at each other. "I'd better be getting on then. I need to send the invites off and Mother'll be terribly upset if I'm late for tea."
"Er, yeah. Me too. Well, not the mother part. I think I'll just be having a supermarket meal for one." Hermione blushed when she realised just how lonely that made her sound. "Um, I'll see you tomorrow." Without further ado, she rushed out of the office and down to the Floo before Malfoy could make fun of her. Even though she was more relaxed around him than the beginning of the day, she was still on edge. Unfortunately for her, that usually manifested itself in rambling on at whoever happened to be talking to her.
*
"Malfoy?" She called quietly, but when he didn't immediately respond, she raised her voice. She'd stationed him just outside her office and given him a desk opposite Hannah's. This way, he was close enough at hand to discuss things with, but not so close that it made her uncomfortable. "Malfoy!"
"All right, all right, Granger. I'm coming." Malfoy entered her office looking a little dishevelled; his hair was a right mess and it was obvious he'd been raking his hand through it a lot recently. "What do you want?"
"The invites... you definitely sent them all?"
Malfoy nodded.
"You're sure the names were correct? You didn't mix any up or forget to do a few?"
"I'm not a moron, Granger. I copied the names onto the envelopes and invites as you gave them to me. I then, at the end of that very long day, carried them all the way to the Owlery and instructed the man to send them straight away."
"Man?" Hermione frowned. "Zacharias."
"Smith? From Hufflepuff?"
"That's the one. For a Hufflepuff he can certainly hold a grudge, and he doesn't like either me or you. He likes the 'power' he gets from manning the Owlery. I'll bet some of your invitations got 'lost in the post'."
"You think Smith didn't send them all? Bastard. I'll kill him!" Malfoy shot off out of her office with an angry look. Hermione anxiously followed him, tugging at her bracelet. She tried reasoning with him as they made their way to the Owlery, but it was as though she was invisible. He was muttering obscenities about Smith over and over again, and shoved Hermione's arm away when she went to grab his. Her heart leapt for a moment, but she realised the gesture for what it was: his current anger over Smith, and nothing whatsoever to do with their shared past. "Oi!"
Apart from Smith, who was apparently napping in the corner, the Owlery was completely empty. Smith jumped up at Malfoy's voice and looked rather sheepish at the sight of them both.
"Malfoy, please!" Hermione pleaded, but it did little good.
"What did you do with the other letters?"
Smith shrugged and then a smirk appeared upon his face that could rival Malfoy's own. "Don't know what you're talking about."
"Don't play coy with me, Smith." Malfoy stepped forward dangerously, and Hermione took a step back. She didn't like where this situation was going and slipped her wand out of her pocket, just in case. "We know you didn't deliver all the letters. What did you do with the ones you didn't send?"
"Come on, Zach," Hermione said quietly, attempting to plead with his better nature. It didn't work; he scowled at her as though she was something he'd trodden in. "Malfoy, maybe... maybe we just do them again."
Malfoy momentarily turned and raised his eyebrows at her. "Are you kidding? They took me all day. There's no way I'm doing them again. No," Malfoy continued, turning back to Smith. "You're going to give those letters back, and fast, or you'll find that your owls aren't the only ones flying out of here."
"Malfoy!" She didn't know whether he would go through with it or not, and she didn't want to find out. It appeared that Smith didn't either. He looked angry and red now, finally realising he'd been caught out and that it was best to own up. He got his wand out. Malfoy did too, as if certain of an attack, but instead, Smith Accio'd the missing letters.
"There," Smith spat, throwing the letters on the floor. "Now piss off."
"Why'd you do it?" Malfoy asked, his wand still drawn.
Smith shrugged. "There were some real shady characters on your guest list. I was just cleaning it up a little for you."
Malfoy bent and picked up the letters, skimming through them quickly. "Mr and Mrs Nott, Mr and Mrs Parkinson, Mr and Mrs Malfoy, Mr Longbottom..."
"Why Neville?" Hermione asked softly. She supposed she understood rejecting the Slytherins, as wrong as it was, but Neville? What did poor Neville ever do?
"I don't think the Ministry should be allowing Death Eaters, but I think it's even worse that you’ve invited those who are now mollycoddling said Death Eaters."
"You spiteful man." Hermione looked at him in disgust, holding more anger for him than she'd ever felt for Malfoy. "You don't get to decide who does and doesn't deserve to come. We're not all like you; we don't all bear a grudge. Perhaps if you'd actually had any truly horrific experiences, you'd understand how important it is to let the bitterness go."
"What's that supposed to mean?" Zach spat.
Hermione shook her head and turned on her heel; Smith wasn't worth it. They'd got the letters back now and they'd post them in the morning, when someone else was on duty. There was no reasoning with someone like that. She heard quick movements behind her, prompting her to speed up her pace.
"No," Malfoy said forcefully. "Stay here. Just leave us well alone."
"Us?" Smith scoffed. It was the last thing she heard as she descended the spiral staircase.
Malfoy caught up with her on the floor below. "Are you okay?"
Hermione nodded, and they walked back to her office in silence. She couldn't understand how she, who'd been through so much, could forgive, and yet Smith, who'd got off relatively lightly, was so bitter and twisted. Perhaps she was a better person. Truth be told, it had always baffled her how he'd ended up in Hufflepuff.
"Hannah, why don't you go home early?" she said to her assistant once they arrived at her office. "We're pretty much done for the day."
Hannah smiled and gathered her things. "Thanks, Hermione!"
"You're welcome." Hermione entered her office and gestured for Malfoy to follow her. She sat down behind her desk and indicated the chair on the other side, which he promptly sat in.
She only began speaking when she was certain Hannah was gone. "Last week, you asked me why I never told anyone." She took a deep breath, and though Malfoy was silent, it was clear he was anxious to hear her answer. "There isn't just one simple answer; there are various reasons. The biggest is that I didn't want to relive everything all over again. I'd just been rescued, and it would have been far too traumatic. I was also embarrassed and ashamed, and I didn't want the entire Wizarding world to know exactly what had happened to the brightest witch of her age. I worried they'd judge me, see me differently. I didn't want it affecting my life any more than it already had, nor did I want sympathetic looks following me everywhere I went.
"And then there was you. I know how lenient you were on me, how you refused to let anyone else come near me. I'm pretty sure you fed me more than you were supposed to and you certainly healed me more than they would have liked. You were a victim, too. Trapped. Unable to get out of that situation without getting either yourself or your family killed. You did what anyone would do."
Silence. Malfoy wasn't looking at her any more; he was looking at the floor. It was a difficult conversation to have, for both of them. She watched his leg shake anxiously and his bottom lip tremble; he was practically ripping the skin off it. "Thank you," he said at last, though he still avoided her gaze. "For telling me. Thanks."
Hermione nodded and swallowed deeply. She'd been wanting to get that off her chest since last week, but hadn't really found a way to bring it up until now. She was glad she did; Malfoy had a right to know. "I'd better be getting on, it's late..."
"Yeah, me too." He stood and exited the office, his shoulders tensed and his hands raking through his hair. As much as it appeared he wanted to hear that, it was understandably difficult.
*
Over the last week, she and Malfoy had grown more and more comfortable in each other's presence. She no longer needed the door open whenever he was in her office; she now felt safe in the knowledge that he would not attack her, and that none of their horrific experiences woukd happen again. They had been just two of Voldemort's victims, both determined not to let it ruin their lives. In a bizarre sort of way, she'd actually began to look forward to seeing him; his conversation uplifted her more than Hannah's cheerful smiles ever did.
Having spent so much time on her appearance, Hermione was running dreadfully late to her own ball. She was supposed to be there an hour in advance, but instead was getting there when everyone else was supposed to arrive. As she Floo'd into the Ministry and made her way up to the ballroom, she hurriedly passed guests that looked at her in amusement. What a sight she must look, attempting to run in such an outfit.
"Hey, sorry I'm late," she said to Malfoy as she reached the entrance of the Valentine's Ball, where they were supposed to meet and greet everyone. She was out of breath and probably red in the face, but luckily made it just as the first guest approached the door.
"You look amazing," Malfoy said quietly. "Let me guess, that's why you're late."
Hermione smiled and stuck her tongue out at him. "Yes, and thank you. Now, shush! It won't look professional if we're too busy talking to each other rather than to the guests."
Malfoy rolled his eyes, but kept schtum all the same. It took an entire hour for them to meet and greet all the guests, and Malfoy kept trying to talk whenever there was a gap. She shushed him every time, to his obvious annoyance, conscious that they were being carefully watched by both sets of friends.
"Can I talk now?!" Malfoy said in mock exasperation once the last guest had been admitted.
"I suppose so." She smiled at him as they shut the doors and entered the ballroom properly for the first time. She looked around in amazement. It was exactly as she had wished it to be. It was very cliché; there was red absolutely everywhere, and the entire place was adorned with hearts. Needless to say, it looked beautiful, and the fairy lights on the ceiling only made it more romantic. Strangely enough, they had been Malfoy's suggestion.
"I'm impressed," Malfoy began. "You've outdone yourself."
"I know," Hermione said confidently, her mouth turning into a grin. "I'll go and get us a drink. Firewhisky?"
Malfoy nodded and she headed over to the drinks table. She found Harry there and embraced him with a wide smile.
"You look fantastic," Harry said, looking her up and down. "Really stunning. How are you? We've both been so busy that I never got a chance to apologise for having to send Malfoy. I would've sent a note, but I worried he might read it. We do have to work together, so things can't be too awkward."
"Thank you." Hermione ordered two Firewhiskys off the bartender as they spoke. "It's fine, don't worry about it. He's all right, really."
"Yeah, once you get to know him, he is. He seems to have changed since the war," Harry admitted. "I wouldn't say we're friends exactly, but we get on, and that's saying something given our history."
Hermione laughed. "Yeah, you could say that."
"He's watching us, you know," Harry said coyly, as though he knew something she didn't.
"Oh?" Hermione picked up the drinks. "Probably just thirsty. I'll see you later, Harry."
"Okay, Hermione." Harry was practically grinning when she left, which she found very odd indeed. Just what was going on with him?
"Here." Hermione handed Malfoy his drink and he took a huge sip straight away. "Sorry I was a while. I bumped into Harry."
"Yeah?" Another sip. "He all right?"
Hermione nodded. "Yeah, fine."
"Are you two...?" The question was so very vague, but it was obvious from the way Malfoy was reacting that he was asking if there was something between Harry and her. She couldn't fathom why he wanted to know, though.
"No! We're just friends. He's like my brother."
"Ahh, okay." Malfoy's face seemed to lift a little at this. "Would you... like to dance?"
Hermione was so taken aback by this request that her eyebrows raised and her jaw dropped. Malfoy appeared to take this as a rejection, though it wasn't meant as one. He began muttering and walking away. She tried to follow him, but she was stopped by Pansy Parkinson.
"You be careful with him," Parkinson warned her with a serious look on her face. "I don't want him getting hurt. If you're not interested, just say so."
Hermione frowned in confusion as Parkinson sauntered off. What was she on about? Interested? In Malfoy? Her? No! That was ridiculous, especially given what they'd been through... wasn't it? Or perhaps coping with what they'd been through had brought them closer together than ever before.
She looked through the crowds, trying to see Malfoy to apologise and explain, but he didn't seem to be anywhere in sight.
Sighing in resignation, she went back to Harry. Malfoy would turn up sooner or later; it was partly his ball, after all.
She chatted to Harry for ages about everything under the sun, particularly how he was dealing with all the photographers that constantly camped outside Grimmauld Place. He was the Wizarding world's most famous celebrity, even though the war was over now. People needed someone to love, and Harry was that someone. She supposed she would be too, if she let the press anywhere near her, but she'd got an order from the Ministry, stopping Rita Skeeter from coming within fifty metres of her. Funnily enough, it had put all the other reporters off focusing on her.
"I'll just nip to the loo," Harry said, leaving her alone by the drinks table. She knew nearly everyone there, but she wasn't exactly confidant enough to go up and start speaking to them. Everyone was separated into little groups or couples, and none of them seemed to want to be interrupted by an outsider.
She inwardly sighed in relief when Harry returned, fed up with being on her own. She still couldn't spot Malfoy, no matter how hard she tried.
"Back. Hey, you know Malfoy's outside, right? On the balcony near the gents..."
"Oh? Thanks, Harry. I'll be back in a moment." Even though she couldn't see Harry's expression as she went after Malfoy, she was sure he would be smiling. He was weird like that. She hadn't said she'd been looking for Malfoy, but it must've been obvious. She'd thought her continuous scoping of the room and everyone in it had been subtle, but apparently not.
As she approached the balcony, she looked through the large windows and saw Malfoy leaning against the railings with a tumbler in his hands. He looked sad and defeated, and Hermione felt awful that it was she who had made him feel like that.
"I've been looking for you everywhere..." Hermione said quietly as she came up behind Malfoy. He looked over his shoulder at her and then took a large swig of his drink.
"Just needed some air." He turned and leant against the railings casually. For the first time that night, she actually got a proper look at him. Now they were no longer surrounded by people, she could take in the incredible tailored suit he was wearing, and the smooth style of his hair. It was clear he'd taken a while over his appearance too, and she felt bad for not noticing earlier.
"You're very handsome tonight."
"Thanks."
"I-I would have said yes, if you'd given me a second—"
"It's all right," Malfoy said quickly, interrupting her. "I understand. I get it. You don't need to make excuses."
"I'm not!" Hermione said sharply. "I know what I want, and I wanted to say yes. I was just a little shocked."
"Come on, Granger. I'm not stupid. Don't take me for a fool." He swallowed the last of his drink and set it down on the floor next to him.
"Draco Malfoy, don't be so stubborn!" Hermione practically shouted at him. He looked at her in astonishment and then amusement, a smile forming on his lips. "I wanted to dance with you. I still do."
"You're serious." It wasn't a question, it was a statement. "All right, then. Would you care for a dance?" This time, he held out his arm to her as though they were in an old fashioned film. She couldn't help but smile. Whether it was the theme, the music or the décor that was making Malfoy semi-romantic she didn't know, but she certainly liked it.
"I would love to." Hermione took his hand and they re-entered the ballroom. She was aware that their friends at the very least were eyeing them with a mix of suspicion, shock and curiosity, but she ignored them. She was also sure that somewhere in the room, Harry was grinning.
Neither of them really knew how to dance properly; she placed her arms upon his shoulders while he placed one on her shoulder and the other around her waist. It felt nice, and was the most intimate they'd been since their experience. The fact that it was truly consensual, that she actually wanted this, made all the difference.
"Parkinson spoke to me earlier, when you stormed off," Hermione said casually as they danced.
"Oh?"
"Yeah, she said she didn't want me to hurt you, and to let you know if I wasn't interested."
Malfoy smiled. "She's rather protective of me. I think it's sweet."
"In a way, I suppose it is. You two aren't...?"
"No!" Malfoy said. "We're just friends. She's like my sister."
"Yes, yes, all right!" Hermione smiled and buried her head in Malfoy's shoulder. She could feel his hot breath upon her hair and it sent tingles down her spine.
She didn't want the dance to end, but naturally it had to. They could feel everyone's eyes on them as they left the dance floor. She tried to guide them over into a discreet corner, but people were still curious as to their intimate involvement. They might not know everything about her past, but they knew the two of them had never got on during Hogwarts. "Perhaps this wasn't the best event to start this sort of relationship..."
"Indeed."
They spent much of the night huddled together in a corner, talking about something or nothing. They didn't want to talk about something too important lest they be overheard.
The night went down extremely well; everyone seemed to love what they'd pulled off. The Minister for Magic himself even complimented Hermione on such an amazing event, and said it far surpassed her other ones.
There were still many people around at the end of the night and they had to wait for everyone to depart before they could leave themselves. Satisfied that the house-elves and cleaners would make sure the place was spick and span before tomorrow morning, they could finally grab their outer robes and head to the Floos.
"I had fun tonight," Hermione said with a smile as they reached the atrium.
"Me too. Would you like to come back to mine for a nightcap?"
As much as Hermione appreciated the offer and would have loved to have said yes, she really wanted to take things slow. She didn't want to rush into anything and find complications along the way. "I'm sorry, Malfoy—"
"Draco," he interrupted. "Call me Draco."
Hermione blushed. "I'm sorry, Draco, I'd love to, but... if we're going to do this, we need to go slow. Is that okay?"
"Of course." Draco smiled politely. It was clear he was upset, but that he understood exactly why Hermione needed time. "It's a shame we won't be working together again."
"I wouldn't count on that. I'm sure Harry'll be sending you along in a few weeks when they want a party for Easter."
"I think they need to change your job title." Draco laughed and grabbed some Floo powder, preparing to leave.
"Something like that." She grabbed her own Floo powder and stepped into the Floo in front of her. "Thanks for tonight, Draco."
"You're welcome, though it really should be me thanking you."
Hermione shrugged, said her goodbyes and let go of her Floo powder, shouting her home address. It appeared that what she had going on with Draco was a good thing, and if nothing else, if it didn't work out, they'd have repaired some of the damage done to their pasts.
As Hermione got ready for bed, she decided that maybe she did like Valentine's Day after all.